


Breathing Exercises

by Samayla



Series: Care Fic Requests - for when life is a lot [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Reader-Insert, un-gendered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayla/pseuds/Samayla
Summary: Written for a request on tumblr: Jack helps the reader cheer up after a stressful event.Senator High-and-Mighty is due at the SGC in a few hours, and our dear reader is not even close to ready. Jack is there to issue the stupid orders they need.
Series: Care Fic Requests - for when life is a lot [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106324
Kudos: 7





	Breathing Exercises

“Breathe, kiddo,” Jack said firmly.

  
You closed your eyes and obeyed. You hadn’t realized just how much your chest hurt until the stale air of your tiny office filled your starving lungs. You needed to calm down. You had so much to do. You should— 

  
Jack’s voice cut off that trainwreck of a thought. “Again. All the way in. All the way out.” He squeezed your shoulder. “You don’t need to look at me, but you do need to open your eyes, Y/N. Stay with me.”

You forced your eyes open and immediately felt the prickling of tears. Jack caught your hands as you raised them to cover your face, but then he caught the wild look in your eyes and changed tactics. “Alright, Y/N,” he said brusquely, kicking your chair back a few inches and perching on the corner of the desk. He shoved some papers out of the way and dumped out the chipped mug you used for pens, and you let out a strangled sort of groan at the thought of straightening everything up again. He crumpled one of the papers into a tight ball, and all you could manage was the barest squeak of protest. You couldn’t get enough air. Jack pressed your hands flat to the desktop. “You feel that?” he asked. 

You nodded. The cold laminate felt good on your sweaty palms.

“Good. Now, take a deep breath for me. Hold it.”

You tried, but your chest spasmed in protest. You were hyperventilating, you realized, and the realization wound your panic even tighter.

Jack released one of your hands to drop the ball of paper in front of you and tip over the mug. “Try to get it into the cup.” He pressed both hands into the desktop again, hard enough to ground you.

It was a strange enough instruction that it made you focus on Jack’s face again. You couldn’t imagine you’d heard him correctly.

“Blow on the paper, Y/N, and make it go into the cup,” he repeated calmly and firmly, giving your hands a squeeze. 

You huffed out a breath of disbelief, and the paper scooted a few inches ahead. Jack just moved it back again.

“Good. Try again. That’s an order.”

Annoyance and disbelief mingled with panic as you leaned down and blew on the paper ball. You didn’t have enough air. The paper wobbled erratically for a moment, then went still. You tried to pull your hand free, but Jack held tight. “Aht,” he scolded. “No hands.”

If this wasn’t the stupidest thing you’d ever been ordered to do… You glared at Jack and blew on the paper again. It skittered sideways a few inches. He reset it, and you blew again without prompting, trying hard to get a steady breath. It moved about halfway to the cup. You sucked in a deep breath and blew again before Jack could move it this time, and it overshot, just grazing the edge of the cup.

“Close, but no point,” Jack said. “Try again.”

Jack made you try again and again, until you managed to sink three goals in a row. Then he moved the cup further away. It took deeper, steadier breaths to sink the paper, but by the time you managed another set of three in a row and he released your hands, you realized your chest didn’t hurt anymore. 

“Knew you had it in you, Y/N,” he praised as you sat up with an absurdly triumphant grin. 

You started to answer, but you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jack gave you a quick once-over before calling for them to come in.

“Ah, Colonel,” General Hammond said as he stepped into your suddenly very cramped office. How long had you been playing Jack’s stupid game? You should have been working. You had so much to do. Jack’s hand pressed yours into the desktop again, reminding you to breathe. You envisioned that stupid paper ball sailing cleanly into the mug that last time, and you felt your shoulders relax. Jack released your hand and winked.

“General Hammond,” you greeted, as steadily as you were able.

“Captain, I take it Colonel O’Neill has already told you about the senator’s postponement.”

“P-postponement?”

“I was getting to that, sir. 

“The senator’s not coming today?”

“She’s rescheduled for next week,” Hammond confirmed. “It seems something came up. Never mind we’d all rearranged operations to accommodate this meeting.”

“Damned inconsiderate, sir,” Jack declared.

“Agreed.” Hammond looked back at you and seemed to notice all was not well. “Captain, why don’t you take the morning?” he offered. “You look… Well, I know the senator’s visit was asking a lot. Take the morning, and come at it fresh tomorrow, knowing you have the extra time.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Hammond was adamant. “I don’t want to hear you’ve been sighted outside your quarters and the commissary until the SG-6 briefing at 14:00.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Get some rest.”

After Hammond shut the door, you stared at it for a few seconds. Finally, you turned back to Jack. “So… postponed.” 

Jack nodded. “Ms. High-and-Mighty’s office called about half an hour ago. No consideration for us little guys.”

“You couldn’t have led with that?” you griped, but there was no venom in the complaint. You were too relieved. 

Jack blinked. “I could have, yes. But then how would I have convinced you to try out for my ace air soccer team?”

The noise you made was decidedly less than professional.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked seriously.

You nodded and took a deep breath. You would be fine. You felt wrung-out and more than a little embarrassed, but fine. “Thanks.”

“Alright then.” Jack grinned and held open the office door. “You heard the general, Y/N. Jello and then bed. At least someone’s looking after my star midfielder. That’s a soccer thing, right? I’m more of a hockey man, myself…”


End file.
